A Little Longer
by lajulie
Summary: Weeks after the last of the Hoth evacuees reach the rendezvous, the Millennium Falcon arrives with Luke Skywalker aboard. Whatever they are to each other, Wedge is determined to be there for him. Written for SassySnowperson for the 2019 May the 4th Fanworks Exchange.


_Written for SassySnowperson (DramaticEntrance) as part of the 2019 May the Fourth Fanworks Exchange._

* * *

**A Little Longer**

Wedge wasn't sure who had actually told him; one minute, he was hunched over his datapad, trying to make a dent in the mountain of squadron reports he still owed Ackbar, and the next, he was heading toward the medbay at decidedly more than a walk but not quite a full-on run.

One of the junior medics had been given the thankless job of holding off the growing crowd of Rebels gathered at the entrance to the medbay, drawn by the news that the _Millennium Falcon_ had returned to the fleet, nearly eight weeks after the Battle of Hoth. With Luke Skywalker aboard.

"Please, if you're not here for treatment, I need you to give us some room," the medic pleaded for the fourth or fifth time. "Please step back."

Wedge was barely listening, his mind still buzzing with the thought: _he's alive he's alive he's alive._

The post-Hoth rendezvous coordinates had been all but abandoned at this point; though Leia Organa and Luke Skywalker were officially still listed as "missing," the reasoning was generally that if you'd made it off Hoth, you'd arrived here weeks ago. And no one would've expected the _Falcon_ to return at all, except for the fact that Solo had apparently commed the last transport promising to get Leia out.

The crowd around Wedge parted as Carlist Rieekan strode through. "Back to your stations," he said, firm but not unkind. "We'll share some news when we have it."

The group began to disperse, but Rieekan nodded in Wedge's direction. "Antilles," he said, giving another nod that indicated Wedge should follow him back.

They continued to the treatment area, and through the transparisteel window Wedge could see Luke, lying in bed, his eyes closed.

Wedge stared at him, counting his breaths._ Alive. _Encased in a mass of tubes and wires, but alive.

Chewbacca and Leia were stationed on either side of Luke's cot, listening to something one of the medics was telling them. Leia looked paler than usual, and her face had a kind of sadness Wedge had rarely seen her display. Han was nowhere to be seen.

A cold feeling washed over him. _Oh, shit. Is Solo _dead_? _

He shot Rieekan a quick look, and the general seemed to understand immediately. "Solo was taken. Alive, but in carbon freeze."

_Nine hells. _Wedge took a deep breath and paused, suddenly a bit daunted at the prospect of facing whatever waited for him in Luke's room.

"Ah, son—" Rieekan began.

Wedge looked back at the general. "Yeah?"

"Skywalker lost a hand," he said. "But I think that's about the worst of it. Go on in."

Chewie got up as Wedge entered, warbling what Wedge was pretty sure was a friendly greeting, though a bit more subdued than his usual tone. He growled something else to Leia, and she thanked him as he left.

She turned back to Wedge, and they just looked at each other for a moment.

"Hey," Wedge said, finally.

"Hey," she returned, making a wan attempt at a smile. She turned her attention back to the bed, her hand resting gently on Luke's shoulder. "He's sedated, but he's healing well. If he stays stable, they should be able to fit him for a prosthetic, do the surgery in a day or so."

"That's good," Wedge said, not really knowing what else to say. He reached forward and brushed a stray strand of hair off Luke's forehead. He just needed to touch him, needed to know he was real.

He looked up to see that Leia's smile had grown a bit stronger. "I think he'll be glad to see you," she said, "when he wakes up. Do you want to stay?"

Wedge smiled back. "Yeah." _Those reports can wait a little longer._

* * *

The last few days—it was days, right, not hours?—had come to Luke in bits and pieces. He remembered waking up in the _Falcon_'s medical bunk, Leia sleeping on the floor beside him. He remembered landing, Leia steadying him as they walked down the ramp, the flurry of medics rushing him through the halls. It was like one of the strange dreams he'd had when he'd first come to the Rebellion, where when you woke up it was hard to tell what was real. He half expected Uncle Owen to appear before him, shaking him awake to help with the vaporators on the south ridge.

But then he woke up to feel a warm hand holding his own, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a face he'd wondered whether he'd ever see again.

"Wedge," he breathed, and Wedge's smile broke through.

"Hi, stranger," Wedge greeted.

Luke couldn't help but grin. "It's good to see you."

"Good to be seen," Wedge said. His tone was nonchalant, but Luke could already sense he wanted to say more.

Luke wanted him to, almost. No, he really did want him to say more. But that was a terrible idea, knowing what Luke knew now. Who he was. Where he came from.

He looked up again at those brown eyes, warm and kind. That smile, he wanted to kiss that smile right off of him. He squeezed Wedge's hand, and the smile grew bigger, if that were possible.

Maybe it was okay to be here for a bit, to let himself heal here. Anakin Skywalker, Darth Vader, Obi-Wan, Yoda had waited twenty-one years. They could wait a little longer.

* * *

Wedge hadn't planned to spend the next couple days at Luke's bedside; it had just sort of happened. There was some sage advice to be taken here, some pithy comment about loss crystallizing your feelings, making you realize what you had, sending everything into relief. He didn't know about any of that. He just knew that he needed to be here, his hand in Luke's good one, here for Luke to see when he woke up.

Leia was here, too. She'd disappear for a couple of hours here and there, getting the man who'd come back with them released from custody and vetted, wrangling some additional supplies for the _Falcon_, attending what had apparently been one hell of a debriefing, but most of the time she was here with Luke. Wedge was reasonably sure she hadn't slept more than a couple of hours here and there since she'd been back. And talk about loss throwing things into relief—

"I told him I loved him," she'd admitted yesterday, when Wedge had quietly returned the money from the Rogues' bets on her and Han, so she could use it for a rescue effort. "Before."

"Good," he'd said, and meant it. Even if Solo never made it back, he would know. And Leia would, too.

Wedge looked down at Luke, who was asleep again. Their thing, whatever it was, had always been unspoken, too. They'd never defined it, never said the words to each other, at least not in that way. Three years of battles, of uncertain missions, of bad days and better ones, of Yavin anniversaries spent hiding out in the gun turret of the _Falcon_, laughing and crying together where nobody would bother them, the lone survivors. Birthday kisses and late-night talks, a stolen night here and there, that time they'd been on a mission together and woke up spooned with each other in the bed. That horrible night on Hoth, that terrible feeling after, each time another ship arrived at the rendezvous, but not Luke.

Wedge brought Luke's hand to his lips, kissed it gently, then kept hold of it as he lay it back down. Maybe it was time to say some words. Maybe—

Luke's eyelashes fluttered again, then opened. His blue eyes sparked with recognition, a smile spreading across his face. Wedge hoped it wasn't just the good drugs inspiring that grin.

"You kissed me," Luke said.

"Uh—"

"On the hand," Luke said. He looked so pleased. "You kissed me," he repeated.

Wedge grinned. "Well, yeah."

Their hands still clasped together, Luke pulled Wedge's hand to his lips, returning the kiss, but lingering a bit, his eyes never leaving Wedge's. _No, definitely not just the drugs._

Maybe they didn't need words, just yet. Maybe this would do for now, for a little longer.


End file.
